


(not) thinkin' about you

by helicases



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Fluff, Formalwear, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mistletoe, Monopoly Deal, Multi, Pining, Side Jihoon/Chan, Side Joshua/Seokmin, Side Soonyoung/Mingyu, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helicases/pseuds/helicases
Summary: “A winter formal?” Seungcheol glances back up at Soonyoung, who appears to be on the verge of vibrating out of his corporeal form because his excitement cannot be contained.“We’re all going!” Soonyoung says. His tone of absolute certainty is honestly kind of inspiring.“Are we?”“Yes,” Soonyoung says sharply.**Friends don't let friends go to the winter formal alone.





	(not) thinkin' about you

**Author's Note:**

> This started when I saw photos that looked a lot like prom photos, and now here I am. Many thanks to psikeval and merryofsoul for the beta, as well as for indulging and encouraging me. A bonus round of thanks to merryofsoul for helping me with the summary after I'd sent a multitude of increasingly ridiculous suggestions. ♡
> 
> (This goes without saying but I’ll say it anyway: please don’t bring this to the attention of the people featured within. I don’t need that and neither do they.)

 

Seungcheol squints at the flyer Soonyoung is waving in front of his face. He knows trying to decipher any words while the paper is moving at that speed is useless, but he likes Soonyoung and he (usually) appreciates his enthusiasm, so he tries. He fails, but he thinks he put in a solid effort. Jeonghan would be proud.

“Soonyoung-ah, I have no idea what that says,” he finally admits.

Soonyoung grabs one of Seungcheol’s hands, deposits the flyer into it, and taps it impatiently. The paper is a soft, blush pink, tastefully decorated and informative without feeling cluttered. A voice in his head, which sounds remarkably like Minghao’s, is proud of the graphic design.

“A winter formal?” Seungcheol glances back up at Soonyoung, who appears to be on the verge of vibrating out of his corporeal form because his excitement cannot be contained.

“We’re all going!” Soonyoung says. His tone of absolute certainty is honestly kind of inspiring.

“Are we?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says sharply. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, and Soonyoung tacks on a belated, “hyung.”

“That was what you thought I was concerned about?” Seungcheol laughs. “The honorific?”

Soonyoung throws his hands up. “I can never be too sure! But really, yes, we’re all going. We have time and it looks like fun and I want to go. It’ll be more fun and a lot nicer if we could all go together.”

And that’s all that’s said about it for a few days. Soonyoung is right: it does sound fun, and it is nice when all of their friends can get together in one place and hang out. They try their best to meet up for lunch or dinner at least once a month as a full group, but coordinating the schedules of thirteen college students—planning any single thing to accommodate classes, coursework, extracurricular activities, the occasional meal, gym time, and sleep—is challenging. They make do.

Seungcheol doesn’t really think about the formal again until that Thursday night.

Jeonghan is humming a few bars of “Dance Dance” between texts, emails, a game on his phone, and idly playing with Seungcheol’s hair. The last thing is Seungcheol’s favorite, but watching Jeonghan concentrate on a game is always entertaining. Seungcheol has a textbook open on his lap, and it’s been on his lap since he came in here half an hour ago. He could be reading it, but the occasional motion of Jeonghan’s fingertips circling over his scalp feels so nice that his eyes keep drooping shut. Reading can wait.

“Dance with me, everybody: one, two three,” Jeonghan sings softly, wiggling his phone back and forth to the beat, and Seungcheol takes the opportunity to curl up with his head pillowed on Jeonghan’s stomach. They’re on Jeonghan’s bed, which Jeonghan always insists is the most comfortable. He’s not wrong. They bought their mattress toppers from the same store at the same time and yet, here they are.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says.

Jeonghan stops singing and lowers his phone to look down at him.

“Did you hear about the formal next month? Soonyoung tried to tell me about it by plastering the flyer to my face,” Seungcheol continues, pausing only to let Jeonghan snort out a laugh. “He wants everyone to go.”

“Of course he does,” Jeonghan smiles fondly. The hand not holding his phone returns to Seungcheol’s hair, and Seungcheol wiggles in place so that Jeonghan doesn’t have to hold his arm at an awkward angle to keep going. Jeonghan pats the top of his head a few times, appreciative, then smooths his hair back from his forehead.

“So we’re going?” Seungcheol asks.

“I don’t see why not,” Jeonghan says, leaning back to rest his head against the wall. “Sounds nice.” He gently rubs Seungcheol’s temples, and Seungcheol hums, contemplative.

“Joshua talked about maybe bringing a date. Do you think he’s finally going to ask Seokmin out?”

Jeonghan groans theatrically. “I hope so. He’s only been pining for a whole year.”

Seungcheol laughs and Jeonghan flicks him in the forehead, hard. “Ow, shit, no, I’m agreeing with you.” He rubs the spot and frowns up at Jeonghan, who just shrugs and taps out another text on his phone.

There’s a comfortable lull in conversation. Jeonghan drops a hand down onto Seungcheol’s shoulder, fingers curling loosely, palm up. He’s wearing a few slim metal rings, but one is thicker in the band and multifaceted across the top surface. It felt a little silly at the time, but one year, the thirteen of them—and Seokmin in particular—were feeling particularly sentimental, so they got a set of matching rings. They wanted to commemorate the years they spent working up to university, and to celebrate the years that lie ahead. It reminds them that they’ve worked hard and that they have each other, even if they drift in and out of each other’s immediate orbit. Seungcheol twists the matching ring on his pinky and then tugs Jeonghan’s hand over so he can inspect the other rings. Jeonghan lets it happen with minimal protest.

“Looks like Jun and Wonwoo are definitely going,” Jeonghan says. He sets down his phone and twirls one of Seungcheol’s hoodie strings around his finger. It’s warm, having both his arms draped over Seungcheol’s shoulders, their hands in a pile on Seungcheol’s chest.

Seungcheol tips his head back to peer up at Jeonghan again. “Do you think Jihoon will finally ask Chan out, now that he has the winter formal as an excuse? Or do you think he’ll still keep his distance?”

“You would think Chan was a tragic widow whose husband was lost at sea, with the way Jihoon hangs back. It was considerate at first, but I don’t think there’s a very strict mourning period for ‘didn’t get a date with a stranger.’ Chan wasn’t even that heartbroken by the barista business,” Jeonghan says.

“Well,” Seungcheol sighs, “maybe not by _that_ , but what came after didn’t help.”

The thing about Chan is that he likes Jihoon and has liked him for ages, maybe even since they met. Chan never said a word, but it’s always been there in his eyes, shining so bright whenever Jihoon is around. They all knew there was never an urgency to it; Chan is happy. He is okay on his own. But he lights up with Jihoon, warm and incandescent. It’s the kind of thing anyone would want for their friends.

And earlier this year, Chan finally confessed, under the influence of too little sleep and far too much caffeine for someone of his stature and temperament. Jeonghan had asked Chan whose baby he was, as he often did while hugging him, and Chan took one long, shuddering breath and dissolved into tears.

Chan had, over the course of many hours trying to stay awake and productive, worked himself up over whether he’d always be seen as the baby to the other boys. He’d decided that maybe, to prove he wasn’t—to prove to _Jihoon_ that he wasn’t—it might help to date someone else, someone not in their group of friends. Someone like the cute barista who always asked about Chan’s classes, occasionally complimented Chan’s eyeshadow, and doodled in sharpie on the sleeves of Chan’s coffee cups.

After Chan was turned down, he met up with them for drinks and to commiserate over his crush. Before any of them had time to react to Chan’s story, Jihoon had shut down hard. He’d stood up, muttered something about an assignment he needed to work on, and left. Seungcheol had bought Chan a flight of shots and rubbed his back when he downed three of them in rapid succession.

Now, Jeonghan ties the strings on Seungcheol’s hoodie into a bow and leaves his hands resting on Seungcheol’s chest.

“Maybe Chan will finally get sick of waiting for Jihoon and he’ll ask someone else to the winter formal to make him jealous. Or he’ll ask someone else because he deserves to have a good time,” Jeonghan says.

“No, Jihoon will just retreat into his prickly, cold, hermit crab shell even more,” Seungcheol says immediately.

Jeonghan cocks his head to one side, considering. His fingers curl a little against Seungcheol’s and tap at his palm. “Then Chan will just have to gently seduce him out of that shell with his many wiles.”

Seungcheol laughs. “Honestly, I can picture that, yeah.”

“I raised him so well,” Jeonghan says, eyes shining.

“It’s a wonder he didn’t turn out to be a mess.”

Jeonghan slaps him, and Seungcheol yelps and tries to grab his hands so he can’t do it again.

“He’s a good boy!” Jeonghan cries.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“Good.”

“I know, I know. He’s your baby, at least until he’s thirty,” Seungcheol says in a lofty but amused tone. Jeonghan shakes a hand free and jabs him in the chin. “Ow! Again? Really?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jeonghan says innocently, but goes to poke him again. Seungcheol tips his head down and nips at his approaching fingers.

“Oh my god, Seungcheol. What the fuck?”

The look on Jeonghan’s face is priceless and Seungcheol manages to hold out for a solid eight seconds before giggling so hard he nearly falls off the bed. His head slips off Jeonghan’s stomach and lands near his hip, and Seungcheol curls up there, laughing so hard he cries.

“You’re so fucking weird,” Jeonghan says, half exasperated and half fond.

Seungcheol wipes his eyes, giggles still bubbling out of him. “You love it.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Their phones vibrate at the same time, and Seungcheol digs his out of his pocket. Jeonghan watches him struggle and doesn’t bother to check his own notifications.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, sitting up and turning to face Jeonghan head on. He pats Jeonghan’s hip insistently, and is unsurprised when Jeonghan snatches his hand out of the air before he can make contact again.

“What, you absolute weirdo?”

“We should go together.”

“What?”

“We,” Seungcheol says, dragging out the single word as long as he can, until Jeonghan drops his hand with mild annoyance, “should go together.”

“I thought we already established that everyone’s going.”

“Yes, but you can be my date. It’ll be fun!”

“You think you meet my standards,” Jeonghan says flatly, unimpressed, but there’s that telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth which says he’s considering it and is at least somewhat amused.

“Of course I meet your standards, you ass. Listen.” Seungcheol forges on, shuffling around on the bed so he’s sitting even closer to Jeonghan. “All of our friends are going together, so we might as well too. It’ll be easy.” They’ve been best friends and roommates for years; they could make the best out of an event like this together. It would be comfortable, and Seungcheol thinks he needs comfortable toward the end of the semester. “Plus, I’ll buy you flowers.”

“Oh, well if you’ll buy me _flowers_ …”

Seungcheol grins. He knows when he’s got the upper hand. “We can take shitty prom photos together. You love those. I mean, you hate them, but still.”

“Hm,” Jeonghan hums loudly.

Seungcheol holds his own phone out so Jeonghan can see the most recent messages in their enormous group chat. He watches him skim the content—particularly Seungkwan’s decree to _BRING A DATE, LOSERS_ —and then sigh heavily.

“Fine, but let’s not announce it. There’s no need—we’re friends, we’re going together, and I don’t know about you, but I’m too tired to deal with people making assumptions like they used to. Or to put in the effort to ask anyone else. That’s so much work.”

Seungcheol ponders that for a moment and wonders why this, of all things, is making his chest feel tight. “Okay, sure.”

“You _are_ buying me flowers, though,” Jeonghan says, scooting over so Seungcheol can shuffle up and lean against his side.

“Sure thing,” Seungcheol says, leaning his head on Jeonghan’s shoulder. He figures he’s taken a long enough break, so he opens his textbook and resumes reviewing the most recent chapters. Jeonghan hands him a highlighter—the one he’d had behind his ear earlier but lost at some point in the shuffle—before Seungcheol even thinks to look for it.

“Thanks.”

Jeonghan just nods and then leans his head against Seungcheol’s to get more comfortable. He tugs his own notebook into his lap and they study like that, separately, but together—at least until Seungcheol gets hungry.

**

Jeonghan groans, loudly and for really quite a long time. It’s impressive but also too loud for this early in the morning, even if the café is mostly empty. Jihoon shoots him a glare and, while maintaining eye contact, crushes his now empty, recyclable coffee cup into a mostly flat disk. He hands that to Mingyu, who tosses it into the recycling bin against the opposite wall. Jihoon may be the smallest of all of them, but he can be intimidating as fuck.

“What are you so upset about?” Chan sighs, sounding incredibly put out by having to ask.

“Joshua is _still_ struggling,” Jeonghan whines, putting his phone face down on the table.

“Still?” Chan looks more interested now.

Seungcheol leans more heavily against Jeonghan’s side. “What’s he done now?”

Jeonghan runs his hands through his hair in a dramatic and aggravated fashion. A few strands stick up in the back, so Seungcheol reaches up to smooth them down. As he’s drawing his hand away, he thinks he catches Jihoon rolling his eyes and perhaps pretending to gag. Mingyu tries and fails to cover a laugh with a cough, but Seungcheol decides it’s best to just ignore both of them.

“Seokmin greeted him today by slinging an arm around his shoulders and walked with him to his first class like that,” Jeonghan recites flatly. “Joshua is distraught.”

Chan puts his head down on the table. “He’s a mess,” he says, voice muffled.

“A huge mess,” Seungkwan adds.

“He is,” Jeonghan agrees. “I’m going to strangle him if I have to hear him ask whether Seokmin smiles that bright at everyone, or hugs them that much, _one more time_.”

Jihoon scoffs. “You think that’s adorable. It’s gross, but you don’t think so.”

“I think it’s frustrating, is what I think,” Jeonghan replies.

“But cute,” Seungcheol adds. Jeonghan elbows him hard and he winces.

“He’s lived in Seoul for several years now, and he’s friends with _us_. He should be used to this by now,” Jeonghan continues.

Seungkwan shrugs, sipping at his iced Americano. “Vernon thinks it might just be a lot to absorb. He's more culturally Korean than Joshua-hyung, so he’s been around people who are more familiar and comfortable with skinship. It’s probably different in the U.S.”

“And Vernon-hyung is an expert,” Chan says, tone just this side of mocking. Seungkwan turns a blank stare at him, and Chan scoots closer to Mingyu, for protection or just to get further away from Seungkwan. Mingyu tolerates this intrusion into his space by lifting an arm so Chan can settle under it. Jihoon watches the proceedings with an amused smile.

“At any rate, he needs to put us out of our misery,” Jeonghan says. “Who wants to bet on when Joshua will ask Seokmin out?”

“ _He_ needs to put us out of our misery?” Jihoon repeats, but this time it’s a question with a hard, exasperated edge.

Jeonghan ignores him and drums his fingers against the table. “Anybody?”

Mingyu shrugs. “I think he’ll figure it out, even if he somehow finds _Seokmin_ , of all people, intimidating and confusing. He’s got time.”

“How many more times will we have to hear him compare Seokmin to a sunrise?” Chan asks, frowning.

“That’ll probably go on forever. Seokmin _is_ very bright and warm,” Seungcheol answers.

Jeonghan is silent for a moment, and Seungcheol wonders if he’s imagining the synchronized turn of the rest of their friends’ faces toward Jeonghan to wait for his reaction. If not, then Seungcheol thinks it’s weird. It’s not like he said anything Jeonghan hasn’t said before.

“Our sunshine,” Jeonghan says finally, picking his phone back up and smiling. “They’ll figure it out.”

Mingyu appears to deflate with relief, until he notices that Chan has stolen his drink.

**

It happens in one of the quads: Seungcheol is walking back to his and Jeonghan’s apartment from the gym when he sees two familiar figures about to cross paths ahead of him. He pauses and confirms that yes, that’s Joshua and Seokmin. Even from a distance, Joshua looks nervous and Seokmin looks radiant but maybe a little concerned. Seungcheol doesn’t think this counts as spying, given they’re all out in the open in a public space, so he lingers, curious. Jeonghan will be upset he missed this, but Seungcheol can tell him about it later.

Joshua gestures widely and then pulls something—a flower—out of his bag. Even from a distance, it’s hard to miss the huge grin—the one that’s often reserved for Joshua in particular—that spreads across Seokmin’s face. Seungcheol sticks around just long enough to see Seokmin nod furiously and then take Joshua’s hand. Joshua looks awestruck and elated all at once, and it’s adorable.

Seungcheol hears more about it that night, first from Seokmin and then from Joshua, both of whom come over individually, within a few hours of each other, to talk to Jeonghan. Seungcheol watches fondly as Jeonghan comforts and teases both of them in turn before walking them out. He never says a word to either of them to indicate that the other had stopped by, but he hugs them both and even plants a smacking kiss on Seokmin’s forehead. That gets a wobbly but extra bright smile out of him. Seokmin leaves their apartment with the flower in hand and a couple of new links bookmarked that will teach him how to press it so he can keep it.

“Finally,” Jeonghan says later that night, his face tucked into Seungcheol’s shoulder when they’ve both finished brushing their teeth. Seungcheol just nods, gives him one last one-armed hug, and heads to his room to sleep.

Finally.

**

The next minor crisis to strike their sprawling friend group comes in the shape of one Kim Mingyu, standing on Seungcheol’s and Jeonghan’s doorstep far too early on a Saturday morning. This time, their guest has come specifically to see Seungcheol, which offended Jeonghan for approximately five minutes before he got wind of what, exactly, was happening and settled in to watch the show.  

“I think I like him? A lot?” Mingyu sounds deeply distressed, and Seungcheol is holding both of his hands because otherwise, Mingyu will go back to anxiously running his fingers through his hair. It’s a sacrifice Seungcheol is willing to make. He likes holding hands. So what? Sue him.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Seungcheol asks patiently.

“Hyung, he’s so _pretty_.”

Jeonghan coughs quietly into his fist. Mingyu is too distracted to notice that it’s covering a laugh.

“But that’s not all,” Mingyu whines. “He’s funny and sweet and outgoing, and one time I heard him sing to Seokmin to wake him up and I was so tired and his voice was so pretty I almost cried.”

“Oh boy.”

“He keeps flirting with me, and we’ve always been like this, but now I can’t tell if he means anything more by it.”

Seungcheol bites his lip and glances over at Jeonghan, who raises both eyebrows comically high. Seungcheol tries not to laugh at him.

“You do flirt a lot,” Seungcheol agrees, because they really do—lots of winking and cheesy lines and hands gently placed on the backs of each other’s necks. “I guess the tension finally hit a breaking point?”

“That’s just it, though,” Mingyu whines again. He extracts his hands from Seungcheol’s and flops over on the floor, burying his face in a pillow after dragging it down from the couch. “We weren’t even flirting or joking around when it hit me.”

“Oh dear,” Jeonghan says. He sits on the floor near Mingyu’s head and gently strokes his hair.

“I was with Soonyoung-hyung and Jun-hyung and I turned toward them after saying something and Soonyoung-hyung’s whole face lit up so slow and I—” Mingyu trails off.

Jeonghan exchanges a glance with Seungcheol, who scoots closer and takes one of Mingyu’s hands again.

“I want to make him look like that all the time,” Mingyu says miserably.

“Then do that,” Seungcheol says. He’s only a little startled at how firm and fast his response was. Jeonghan looks, impossibly, more surprised. Seungcheol rarely surprises him any more. They’ve known each other for too long.

“How?” Mingyu asks.

“The way you make all of us happy,” Seungcheol says gently. “Except maybe less platonically. You’re friends and you like each other. Go for it.”

Mingyu fiddles with a corner of the pillow with the hand not still in Seungcheol’s grasp. “Do you think he’d go to the winter formal with me?”

For all his normal confidence and bravado, Mingyu sounds hesitant and shy. Seungcheol looks over at Jeonghan, who continues to smooth the hair back from Mingyu’s face.

“I think you should ask,” Jeonghan says.

Mingyu mulls that over and then nods. “Thanks. Thank you—both of you.”

Jeonghan pats him on the head. “Any time, Mingyu-yah.”

Before Mingyu leaves their apartment, he turns to the two of them. “I think...I know you don’t like to talk about it, or have people assume that you’re, um—I just think that maybe, if you haven’t already, you should go for it too.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, smiles down at the floor and then at them, and steps out the front door. “Okay, bye hyungs!”

Seungcheol closes the door behind him and turns to Jeonghan, who is already curling up on the couch.

“What was that about?” Seungcheol asks, grabbing one of their blankets and absently, automatically helping Jeonghan wrap himself up like a burrito.

Jeonghan shrugs as best he can while swaddled in the blanket. “No idea.”

**

They’re all gathered in Minghao’s and Jun’s apartment on a rare weekend where everyone is free for more than a few hours at a time. Well, almost everyone: Joshua and Seokmin are on a date, and Jeonghan takes great pleasure in sighing dramatically and saying how happy he is that his boys finally got their shit together. Every time he brings it up, Jihoon mutters something that makes Mingyu and Chan laugh.

Jeonghan has his head in Seungcheol’s lap for a change, and Seungcheol is trying to twist tiny braids into his hair. He is not achieving the most aesthetically pleasing results, so it’s a testament to how much Jeonghan likes his hair played with that he’s allowing this to happen. Seungkwan boos at Seungcheol’s efforts, tossing Cheetos at them. Vernon looks annoyed that his snack is being used as ammunition, but not annoyed enough to stop Seungkwan.

On the other side of the living room, Wonwoo has unearthed a Monopoly Deal set and starts dealing in Minghao, Jihoon, and Chan. Jeonghan twitches like he’s going to sit up and join the game, but Seungcheol finishes one tiny braid and tugs a new section of hair aside with his fingertips. That distracts Jeonghan long enough for Soonyoung to slide into the game circle instead. The rest of their friends scatter to the couches or flop onto the floor to observe.

The game starts out cautious and calm. Jun peers over Wonwoo’s shoulder to see his cards, and he points at the ones he thinks they should play next. Wonwoo wrinkles his nose when Jun giggles into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. More often than not, he’ll lay out the cards Jun picks, if not because they’re good plays, then because he wants to prove a point to his boyfriend.

Within a few minutes and without saying a word, Wonwoo and Minghao team up to methodically destroy any potential monopoly Soonyoung tries to build. Mingyu laughs from the couch every time Soonyoung gets frustrated and has to surrender property and money cards to them. Seungkwan and Vernon cheer and pat Minghao’s back proudly, earning them comically fierce but still good-natured glares from Soonyoung.

Jeonghan reaches up to tap Seungcheol’s hand, which is resting on top of his head, the small braids long abandoned in favor of watching the game. Seungcheol glances down and Jeonghan nonchalantly inclines his head toward Chan.

Chan picked up the rules of the game pretty quickly and now has an unnerving smile on his face. It’s directed at Jihoon, who is seated across from him. Jihoon has a modest spread of property cards in front of him, and a substantial stack of money cards to his left.

“Jihoonie-hyung,” Chan calls sweetly. His smile turns appropriately sly as he slaps a Sly Deal card down into the center of the circle. He leans over and picks up Pacific Avenue while Jihoon glares at him.

“How do you have so many action cards?”

“I’m just lucky,” Chan replies, sitting back down.

“Yah, Jihoonie,” Jeonghan calls, “you’ve got plenty of cash and real estate. You can spare some to treat people well.”

“Treating people well isn’t the point of this game. Look at Soonyoung,” Jihoon says.

Case in point: Soonyoung is handing over another stack of money cards to Wonwoo, who played a rent card against him. As he draws his hands away, he makes a rude gesture at Jihoon, who makes one back. Jeonghan cackles delightedly, clapping his hands together, and Seungcheol turns a fond smile down at him. Jihoon groans loudly and draws his next pair of cards with more force than absolutely necessary.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Chan says, straightening the property cards laid out before him. “You have plenty of time to try again.”

Jihoon’s scowl deepens and he busies himself with tucking more cards into his cash pile.

Jeonghan sits up and leans most of his weight into Seungcheol’s side when the game starts to go faster and get more heated. Seungcheol’s hand automatically goes to the small of Jeonghan's back to steady him as he shifts around to sit more comfortably.

Soonyoung runs out of cards first and pouts when Chan tries to console him by saying he at least gets to skip out on paying rent. Jun and Wonwoo burst out laughing, heads knocking together because they’re sitting so close. Chan throws down a second Sly Deal card and starts to reach for one of Jihoon’s properties. Jihoon makes a triumphant noise and throws down a “Just Say No!” card before Chan can snatch it away. His follow up crow of victory is cut short when Chan tosses down his own “Just Say No!” card, scoops up the property he originally wanted, and happily puts it in line with the rest of his cards.

Soonyoung claps Chan on the back excitedly, and Jeonghan tips his head onto Seungcheol’s shoulder because he’s cackling so hard. Seungcheol reaches up to brush Jeonghan’s hair out of his eyes so he can still see the progress of the game.

“What the fuck? Wonwoo, did you shuffle the deck at all?” Jihoon asks.

“Don’t blame Wonwoo-hyung for your shortcomings,” Chan says sweetly.

Soonyoung gives up on trying to win in favor of laughing so hard he cries. At this point, Seungkwan and Vernon are passing the bag of Cheetos back and forth like it’s popcorn. Wonwoo and Minghao turn on Chan next, now that their preferred target has abandoned ship. Chan’s reactions to their tactics are not as funny as Soonyoung’s, especially since Chan is doing exceptionally well for his first Monopoly Deal game. He magnanimously ignores Wonwoo, Minghao, and Soonyoung slipping cards to each other because even cheating won’t help them win. Every rent payment he is forced to pay comes back to him in the end. Seungcheol thinks it’s kind of incredible.

Chan trades a property card with Jihoon and pauses long enough for the rest of the players to tense up in anticipation. With a flourish, he places two cards down, one completing the set he just traded for, and the other completing a fourth, superfluous monopoly. Wonwoo throws his cards in the discard pile and sits back, impressed.

“I can’t believe this,” Jihoon says, staring blankly at the spread of cards before Chan.

“Are you sure you’ve never played this game before?” Minghao asks.

Soonyoung crowds up against Chan and shakes him enthusiastically. “Look at our baby boy! No one can take him out!”

Chan lets out a short, half-joking little laugh. “Who would want to?”

In the abrupt silence that follows, Seungcheol thinks they all feel the same kind of panic, straight to the heart. Because Chan might be their baby, but he is also a bright young man growing up in a world that can be cruel. They can’t protect him from all of it, can’t stop him feeling the things that hurt. Their love won’t stop a little voice in Chan’s head from wondering, on bad days, if anyone will ever want him.

Where he’s curled into Seungcheol’s side, Jeonghan makes a soft, wounded sound, and Seungcheol hugs him closer out of instinct. It takes so little, sometimes, to bruise the soft center of Jeonghan’s heart. He’s protective of them all, but _especially_ of Chan.

Mingyu is biting at his lip and Soonyoung, tucked snugly beneath Mingyu’s arm, is staring at Chan with eyes that shine overbright with sorrow. The room is so, so quiet.

“Excuse me?” Jihoon says, icy and even, when no one else speaks.

Chan flinches but keeps his eyes on the cards, sweeping them into the center with the rest of the discard pile. Jihoon reaches out to stop him, fingertips just brushing the back of his wrist, and Chan’s eyes widen.

“What are you talking about?” Jihoon asks.

“Don’t worry about it, hyung,” Chan insists. “It’s nothing.” He tries to tug his hand out from under Jihoon’s, but doesn’t get very far.

“It’s not,” Jihoon says, but he speaks for all of them, because it’s never “nothing” when it comes to their friends—and especially not when it’s Chan.

Chan looks nervous, like he hadn’t expected this reaction—like he hadn’t meant to make that comment out loud in the first place.  

“Who’s saying shit like that to you?” Jihoon asks, and his face is pale with fury, jaw clenched like it always is when anyone fucks with his friends. “Actually, I don’t care. I’m taking you to the winter formal. Do you want to go? Let’s go.”

Seungcheol doesn’t think he’s heard a proposal like this sound so sincere and yet so vaguely threatening before. And Jeonghan seems to agree, if the near-painful tightening of his hand on Seungcheol’s knee is anything to go by. Keeping his eyes on Chan and Jihoon, Seungcheol reaches down to loosen Jeonghan’s grip, finger by finger.

A slow, tiny smile spreads across Chan’s face as he finally looks up. “Aw, hyung, are you asking me on a date?”  There’s just the smallest waver in his voice. Chan looks almost sure, almost ready to believe, but not quite there. He’s waiting for Jihoon with all his fingers figuratively crossed. They all are.

Jihoon sits back, swallows, and folds both of his hands in his lap. “So what if I am?”

Chan finishes collecting all the Monopoly Deal cards and hands them to Wonwoo before responding. “Then I guess I accept.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Okay, I need another drink,” says Seungkwan, using Minghao’s and Vernon’s shoulders for leverage to push himself to his feet, and the moment ends. When he asks if anyone is going to join him, Jihoon stands abruptly and follows him into the kitchen.

Seungcheol watches Jeonghan smile fondly at Chan, then knocks their shoulders together. “You were right,” he says, murmuring into the crooked mess of Jeonghan’s new braids. They tickle a bit against his mouth, so he tucks Jeonghan’s head beneath his chin instead, dragging him against Seungcheol’s chest in the process.

“I almost always am,” Jeonghan replies, nestling in. He’s right about that too.

**

A week out from the winter formal, Seungcheol steps out of the bathroom in soft sweatpants, head down and hair still damp from his shower, and walks directly into Jeonghan. He makes a startled noise and braces one hand on Seungcheol’s bare chest to steady himself.

“Seungcheollie, you need to watch where you’re going,” Jeonghan scolds. He pushes Seungcheol’s chest, quickly draws his hand back, tries again by shoving at one shoulder, then waves his fingers in the air as if they’ve been scorched. “This is—unsafe!”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother arguing.

“Anyway.” Jeonghan brandishes his phone, and his cheeks look slightly pink. “You won’t believe the phone call I just got.”

“Joshua again?”

“No, it was—oh. Yes, it was Joshua.” Jeonghan follows him over to the couch to sit.

“What did he want?”

Jeonghan folds his legs up under him and leans back against one of the arms of the couch. “You know how our dear Shua finally went on a date with Seokmin? And how Seokmin also agreed to go to the winter formal with him? As his date?”

Seungcheol laughs. “I’m aware, yes.”

“Well,” Jeonghan’s eyes flicker briefly downward, and he makes a strangled, frustrated sound before turning his attention back to the phone clutched in his hand. “Okay, so. He called me and asked if we would go with them to dinner before the formal.”

“Like a double date?” Seungcheol scrunches up his nose. “Is he _still_ nervous about this?”

Jeonghan throws his hands up. “That’s what I said! But he kept saying ‘Jeonghannie, but what if he was just being nice because he’s such a nice person’ and ‘he held my hand but what does it _mean_ ’ and ‘what if he doesn’t mean it like that’ and I kept trying to tell him Seokmin already went on a date with him! He did that! He agreed, enthusiastically! Cheol-ah, what are we going to _do_ with this mess of a boy?”

“I guess we’re gonna go to dinner with them,” Seungcheol says when he’s finally reined in his laughter.

“Joshua is buying me dessert,” Jeonghan says with incredible conviction.

“Good.” Seungcheol smiles.

“Don’t give me that look. He owes us.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Seungcheol argues, kicking out both feet until he can tuck his toes under Jeonghan’s calves. “If he doesn’t buy you dessert, I will.”

“Fine,” Jeonghan huffs, but he looks pleased.

**

Agreeing to dinner works out for everyone. Joshua is so grateful that he buys them both coffee, unprompted, for a week, and now Seungcheol and Jeonghan have a good excuse for being paired up that night. They are helping a friend. They are doing a good deed. They are not going out on a date of their own, so nobody needs to think that.

(Maybe no one does. But Seungcheol knows how it looks, sometimes, the two of them living together and co-parenting their friends group, sharing a bed sometimes, ending all their phone calls with “ _I love you_ .” But it’s not like that. It’s not exactly _unlike_ that, but if they’d passed beyond the boundaries of friendship, he would know, right?)

All this overthinking leaves Seungcheol’s heart lodged in his throat, beating strangely. So he does the sensible thing and doesn’t think about it at all. That feels very right.

The night of the formal, Jeonghan is running late, so Seungcheol lounges around for a while before he starts getting ready. He’s got his black shirt tucked in and is smudging a tight line of eyeshadow onto his eyelids when he hears a knock at his door. He’d left it cracked, so he moves on to combing back his hair and waits for Jeonghan to come in.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I had—oh hey, look at you!” Jeonghan stops short and Seungcheol meets his gaze in the mirror before turning around, comb still in hand. “You look nice. I feel special.”

“Do I not always look nice?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and makes a noise of despair. “Shut up.”

“Hey, don’t tell me to shut up. I got you flowers. Don’t make me give them away to someone else who doesn’t tell me to shut up all the time,” Seungcheol says with a sharp grin.

Jeonghan brightens considerably at the mention of flowers. “Okay first of all, I can do whatever I want and you know it. Second, good luck finding someone who meets your ridiculous criteria. ‘Doesn’t tell you to shut up?’ Someone has to keep you in line. And third, don’t you dare give away my flowers. Where are they? I want to see.”

He comes closer and makes grabby hands at Seungcheol, who swats at him with his comb.

“Go get ready and then you can have your flowers,” Seungcheol laughs.

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun.”

“At least let me help you with your hair first,” Jeonghan concedes. Seungcheol relinquishes his comb and squats down a little so Jeonghan can sweep his hair back for him. He finger combs the front into place, tongue poking out in concentration.

“I thought no one wanted my forehead exposed,” Seungcheol says.

“Your forehead looks fine,” Jeonghan says flatly. He steps back, studies Seungcheol’s face, and then nods and hands the comb back. “Okay, you’re welcome.”

Seungcheol straightens up and gives him a mock salute. “Go get ready, Jeonghan.”

“I’m going, I’m going. You’d better have those flowers ready when I’m done,” Jeonghan calls over his shoulder as he retreats to his own room.

Seungcheol gives him a few minutes, puts finishing touches on the sweep of shadow lining his eyes, and then retrieves the flowers on his way to Jeonghan’s room. He settled for something simple: roses, but in a shade of soft purple. The florist had asked him to wait around longer so they could put together a solid set. It was more than worth the wait because Jeonghan does a hard double take when Seungcheol leans against his bedroom door frame. His face lights up and Seungcheol knows he got it right.

“I can’t believe you joked about giving those to someone else. They are clearly meant for me,” Jeonghan says, fastening the last of his shirt buttons. They’re matching, both in all black.

“I said I’d get you flowers, so I did.”

Jeonghan hums, noncommittal, instead of responding. He pulls out a choker necklace with a moderately sized pendant fixed in the center. Seungcheol watches him struggle to fasten it in the back, even with his collar flipped up so it will rest where it needs to.

“Here, let me help,” Seungcheol says, already setting the flowers on Jeonghan’s bed and reaching for the choker, which Jeonghan surrenders with a huff.

He carefully tugs Jeonghan’s collar up further and peers around him to see if he’s got the pendant centered. Seungcheol keeps his touch light and smooths the band so it lies flat around his neck. He still can’t quite see the pendant at this angle, especially since Jeonghan had already turned away from the mirror when he’d walked into the room. Seungcheol settles for fastening the clasp and checking the placement later. The instant he hears Jeonghan’s breath hitch, Seungcheol has a hand under the band, ready to tug it loose.

“Shit, is it too tight?”

“No, no, sorry. It’s fine,” Jeonghan says in a rush. “Is it centered? Does it look okay?”

“You’re going to have to turn around for me to be able to answer that, Hannie,” Seungcheol says around a laugh.

Jeonghan turns and fixes him with a deeply unimpressed glare. Seungcheol (mostly) ignores the look, folds Jeonghan’s collar back down, and adjusts the pendant until it sits at the center of his throat.

“There. Now _you’re_ welcome.”

“My hero,” Jeonghan deadpans.

“I can still give your flowers away.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, but you’re on thin ice, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol laughs.

Jeonghan pushes past him to scoop up the purple roses and heads toward their kitchen, presumably to see if they have a vase tucked away somewhere. They do now, since Seungcheol made sure to pick one up on his way home, but Jeonghan doesn’t know that yet.  

“Come on, let’s go meet Shua and Seokmin for dinner,” Jeonghan calls from up ahead.

“You know,” Seungcheol calls back, “it’s really kind of amazing how flustered Seokmin makes him. He’s usually so weirdly clever and smooth.”

“I’m so proud of Seokmin,” Jeonghan says.

Seungcheol hears a surprised noise and knows Jeonghan has found the vase. He shrugs on his suit jacket and joins Jeonghan in the kitchen. He’s gently fluffing the roses so they fill out the vase.

“Of course you are.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re right.”

“I do so love to hear that,” Jeonghan winks—badly—and Seungcheol struggles to turn his laugh into a cough.

**

They meet Joshua and Seokmin at the restaurant, arriving within a few minutes of the other pair. Seokmin is beaming and Joshua keeps glancing at him and then away, a wondrous smile on his face. Just out of earshot, Seungcheol makes a retching noise for the bark of a laugh he knows he’ll get from Jeonghan, and receives a bonus smack on the shoulder for his trouble.

Jeonghan gets the dessert he asked for, mostly because Joshua failed to hide his hopeful pout when he saw the selection of cakes. Seokmin noticed and made an exaggerated fuss over wanting at least two slices to share with the table. It’s sweet, how happy they both look. It’s sweeter still when Joshua, as expected, lights up at the first bite and immediately offers Seokmin the next one. Seokmin leans in, Joshua’s hand cupped just beneath his chin to catch any crumbs.

Seungcheol sees movement out of the corner of his eye but reacts too slowly to dodge the icing Jeonghan smudges onto his nose. He turns to glare, but Jeonghan just shrugs and makes a face like _What? I wanted to be cute too_. Seokmin and Joshua don’t even notice.

All in all, it’s a good dinner and Joshua is more relaxed when they roll up to the winter formal venue. Soonyoung and Mingyu are already there, the former swinging their joined hands back and forth while he tells a story. Mingyu keeps biting his lip to try to stifle his laughter but it’s not very effective. And even from here, Seungcheol can see how each burst of laughter makes Soonyoung smile harder. He’s proud of them—of Mingyu especially, for asking Soonyoung to come. They are incandescently happy.

Jeonghan greets them with a hug and makes like he’s going to mess with Soonyoung’s hair. Predictably, Soonyoung squawks loudly and ducks out of the way, hands up like he’ll fight back. Jeonghan laughs with his whole body and hugs him again in apology. Soonyoung accepts but then moves so he’s half hidden by Mingyu, lacing their fingers together again. Seungcheol grins at how Mingyu puffs out his chest like he’s an overgrown guard dog, and how he melts a little when Soonyoung leans his head against his shoulder.

Jun and Wonwoo arrive next, followed closely by Jihoon. The latter is dressed in vibrant red, with a delicate lace choker pale enough that it’s hard to see at certain angles. He looks calm, but like with Jeonghan, Seungcheol has known him long enough to notice the quick, furtive glances he shoots at anyone approaching the venue. He’s glad he’s still looking at Jihoon when Chan does arrive, because he gets to see his eyes widen comically before he starts to scowl. As far as frustrated expressions on Lee Jihoon go, this one is small but deep.

“Channie!” Jeonghan cries, holding out both arms. The look Chan gives him rivals the most withering glares Jeonghan has given to people and also inanimate objects he feels have wronged him. It’s impressive. Chan nods and gives Jeonghan a curt hello before scanning the rest of the group until he sees Jihoon, whose ears have already started to go pink.

“Ah, Jihoonie-hyung, your suit looks nice,” Chan says, tucking his hands into his pants pockets. “It looks almost like we color coordinated ourselves.”

“You’re not even wearing a real suit!” Jihoon blurts out just as Seungkwan, Minghao, and Vernon arrive.

Seungcheol has to turn away, doubling over with laughter. Jihoon isn’t technically wrong—Chan is dressed in soft white trousers and a pink button down that almost looks translucent against his skin. They’re lucky it’s a warm night.

“Hey, you match,” Vernon says, pointing first at Jihoon’s face, which has turned a bright pink, and then at Chan’s shirt. From his side, Minghao chokes on a laugh and covers his grin with one hand.

“Shut up, Vernon,” Jihoon says, nose scrunching up in frustration.

“It’s okay, hyung,” Chan says sweetly. “We do match and I think it’s cute.”

Jihoon exhales heavily and holds out his arm like it might kill him. “Come on, let’s go inside,” he says through gritted teeth.

Chan happily loops their arms together, and as they lead the group into the venue, Seungcheol yells a loud “Cute!” at their backs. Jihoon raises his free hand, middle finger already up, and Jeonghan laughs and pats Seungcheol’s arm.

Once they’ve all shuffled inside, to the edges of the dance floor to mingle, Seungcheol spots a photo booth and tugs at Jeonghan's sleeve. Jun and Wonwoo have already wandered off—the former flirting loudly and shamelessly, and the latter laughing and trying to keep up—so he figures they can break off too.

“Come on, I promised you cheesy prom photos. Let’s go now since it’s not crowded. There isn’t even a line!”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes but follows Seungcheol to the booth. The photographer lets them pick a few props from the table and, since there still isn’t a line yet, lets them look through the photos once they’re done. They get a Polaroid each now and will be able to download the rest later. They look satisfyingly ridiculous in every shot, but Seungcheol’s favorite is appropriately prom-like: he’s standing behind Jeonghan, arms around his waist and hands folded underneath his. Jeonghan’s face, which he had turned just enough to catch a glimpse of the purposefully bland smile on Seungcheol’s face, is contorted with laughter. They look ridiculous and happy.

“Wow, you were right. These are terrible. I do hate them,” Jeonghan mutters, but Seungcheol sees him carefully tuck the Polaroid into his wallet so it doesn’t bend.

“I know. Look at all those wrinkles,” Seungcheol jokes, dodging the hand that rises instinctively to smack him.

“You’re terrible,” Jeonghan tells him, and Seungcheol latches onto him with a back hug. “Get off me, you terrible man.”

“No~,” Seungcheol whines, easing Jeonghan forward in an awkward shuffle. “I’m great and I did all the things I said I’d do for you.”

“Congratulations,” Jeonghan says. “Let’s go back to my actual friends.” His offended tone is belied by how he keeps a hand on Seungcheol’s where they’re resting on his stomach.

They waddle back over to the group, which has dispersed somewhat since they’ve been gone. Joshua and Seokmin wandered onto the dance floor and seem to be content on their own for now, wrapped up in each other. Seungcheol thinks he sees Wonwoo still laughing in the distance as he twirls and then dips Jun. The music has been steadily increasing in volume and more and more people are filling the dance floor.

Once they’ve inserted themselves into a gap in the smaller circle of their friends, Seungcheol hooks his chin over Jeonghan’s shoulder to better see and hear the conversation.

“I just want to make sure everyone sees and acknowledges what Vernon is wearing,” Seungkwan is saying.

“What did you think I was going to do?” Vernon protests. “Did you really think I was going to come to a formal event, with both of you looking like that, and not dress up? Have you _seen_ yourselves?”

Minghao immediately goes from entertained to deeply embarrassed and Seungkwan just frowns, like he often does when Vernon says something he finds embarrassingly earnest and complimentary. Seungcheol presses closer to Jeonghan so he can look more closely at the suit Vernon is wearing. Jeonghan shifts so they’re both standing more comfortably and resumes absently patting Seungcheol’s arms around his waist.

“No, really, look at you,” Vernon continues.

“Oh no, no, no, please stop,” Minghao pleads.

“Look at you and look at me.” Vernon insists. Minghao is all long, sleek lines, with delicate sweeps of red eyeshadow along his waterline, and Seungkwan’s suit is crisp with bold color blocking and a satin cross tie at his throat. But Seungcheol genuinely doesn’t think Vernon is being fair—he looks incredible too. Vernon’s suit is a crisp, deep blue, and there’s a set of pins shaped like deer attached to the points of his collar.

Jeonghan has whined on many occasions, in the comfort of their own apartment, that the three of them are unfairly pretty. Seungcheol usually—and honestly—assures him he is _also_ unfairly pretty. It’s always a toss up whether his reassurances will comfort or distress Jeonghan, but he’s not going to stop any time soon.

“Shut up, Vernon,” Seungkwan says, blushing.

“I rest my case.”

“Anyway,” Seungkwan continues, addressing the friends who have not disappeared yet. “Look at you beautiful losers, convincing real human beings to go as your dates tonight.”

Jihoon grumbles, which makes Chan grin, but then his offended glare catches on Seungcheol and Jeonghan and it drops immediately.

“Holy shit,” Jihoon breathes.

Seungkwan turns and notices them too and his eyes go wide. “Holy _shit_ ,” he echoes, but louder.

Jeonghan’s hand stills on Seungcheol’s arms, which are still wrapped around his waist, and he cocks his head to one side in confusion. This is perhaps the most excited Seungcheol has seen Jihoon all night—all week, even—excluding when he saw Chan dressed up for tonight. Seungkwan has grabbed an arm each on Minghao and Vernon, and he and Jihoon look equally stunned.

“What in the actual fuck is going on? Are you okay?” Jeonghan asks.

“Are _you_?” Jihoon fires back.

Mingyu opens and closes his mouth a few times before collecting himself enough to speak. “Oh my god, we’ve been waiting for this moment _forever_.”

“I can’t believe you finally got your shit together,” Seungkwan says. “This is incredible. I didn’t even bother trying anything because I didn’t think—” and then he trails off.

They’re starting to attract attention from other students at the formal, and Seungcheol detaches himself from Jeonghan’s back. Seungkwan’s eyes go wide and his expression quickly cycles from mild horror, through a dawning realization, and settles on disgruntled resignation.

“You didn’t think what, Seungkwan?” Seungcheol asks.

“Oh my god,” Jihoon cuts in. “No, no. You didn’t figure it out, did you? This is just one of your—it’s just one of your ‘things,’ isn’t it? I can’t believe this. Hey, Chan, do you want a drink? Do you want to dance?”

“Um. Yes? Yes, okay, I’d love to.”

“I can’t believe this,” Jihoon mutters again and then turns to Chan. “Okay, come on. Let’s dance. I said I’d take you out, so I’m going to do this right. You deserve it.”

Seungcheol watches them leave and then asks, “What was he talking about?”

Seungkwan makes a strangled noise, shakes his head, and drags his boyfriends out onto the dance floor too.

Mingyu glances between the crowd of dancing students and Seungcheol a few times. “Ah, hyung, we thought, um. We thought maybe you…” He pauses and looks to Soonyoung for help.

Soonyoung squeezes his hand. “We thought maybe you’d finally gone for it and gotten together,” he says with a wistful smile.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan both laugh. “What?”

“It was our mistake, sorry,” Soonyoung says brightly.

“You both look very nice, and you should definitely enjoy your night. They’re playing some good music,” Mingyu adds. “We should all go dance. We’ll see you later!”

He and Soonyoung wave and then slip into the crowd of dancers. Seungcheol halfheartedly waves back before letting his hand fall to his side. Early on, before their closest friends became their closest friends, they used to get comments and assumptions like that—that they were a couple. But as time went on and they grew closer, their friends stopped thinking it was true, or at least Seungcheol thought they had.

“Well, at least he wasn’t wrong about the music,” he says, and Jeonghan shrugs.

The rest of the winter formal passes in more of a haze than Seungcheol was expecting, especially since neither he nor Jeonghan have much to drink. They cross paths with friends and other classmates throughout the night and everyone seems cheerful, but Seungcheol starts to lose track of how many people stop him and Jeonghan to congratulate them. They smile and laugh each time, but his responses feel more strained as the night continues.

Seungcheol thinks maybe he should have expected this, since he and Jeonghan are in fact here as each other’s dates, but he’s still surprised every time someone new congratulates them. He’s not sure how Jeonghan feels about it, and he’s not eager to ask. They only dance together once, and it’s to an upbeat track, as part of a large group. Seungcheol is disappointed that he’s disappointed; he’d wanted to dance with Jeonghan more, but now it doesn’t feel right.

Near the end of the night, they run into Joshua and Seokmin again, both rosy cheeked and ducking out from under a sprig of mistletoe. Seokmin is a little tipsy and, upon seeing Seungcheol and Jeonghan, kisses both of them on their cheeks. He releases them and they automatically sway into each other, shoulders brushing. Seungcheol is inexplicably relieved when Jeonghan doesn’t step away to break that point of contact. Seokmin tells them he’s happy for them before glancing back at Joshua, smile brightening the way the sun does when clouds finally roll past it. Joshua looks back at him, fondness written clearly across his features.

“We’re happy for _you_ , Seokmin-ah,” Jeonghan says, and Seungcheol nods in agreement. Seokmin leans against Jeonghan, still beaming at Joshua.

Jun and Wonwoo find them before leaving for the night, the latter already sleepy eyed. Seungcheol watches them fondly as they leave, Wonwoo’s arm around Jun’s waist so he can tuck his hand into his jacket pocket. Seungcheol thinks it’s sweet, how comfortable they are together and how quickly they’ll both go from trading teasing insults to being earnestly sweet.

As they reach the ballroom entrance in the distance, Seungcheol sees Jun spy another sprig of mistletoe pinned high, and Jun presses a kiss to Wonwoo’s jaw. While Jeonghan chats with Joshua and Seokmin, Seungcheol does a quick scan of the room. His stomach turns when he realizes there’s way more mistletoe pinned up than he expected. Jeonghan must notice too, because he catches Chan under a nearby doorway and smacks a kiss onto his forehead.

Chan laughs and smooths down his hair before returning to Jihoon’s side.

Jihoon gives him a determined look. “I don’t need mistletoe,” he says, and surges up on his toes to kiss Chan right on the mouth.

Jeonghan gasps and grabs Seungcheol’s arm. When they separate, Chan stands there stunned for a few beats before shaking himself out of it and leaning in to kiss Jihoon back.

“I’m so happy for them too,” Seokmin says, eyes a little watery.

“Oh no, Seokmin-ah, let’s get you home, okay?” Joshua says softly, taking one of his hands. To Seungcheol and Jeonghan, he says, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, goodnight, Shua-yah,” Seungcheol smiles.

Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Jihoon, and Chan aren’t alone for long. Mingyu joins them shortly after Joshua and Seokmin leave. Jihoon and Chan are holding hands now, which does not escape anyone’s notice.

When Soonyoung returns from the bathroom, even he does a double take at the pair of them, but he must decide he has more important matters to attend to. He rushes up to Mingyu, stopping just short of a full collision. He frames his face with one hand and waves the smallest sprig of mistletoe with the other. Mingyu’s whole face lights up and they’re both still smiling when they kiss.

“Ah, young love,” Jeonghan says.

“Gross,” Jihoon counters, and Soonyoung immediately turns and lobs the mistletoe at his face.

In the ensuing commotion, Seungkwan appears, followed closely by Vernon—who is more or less being dragged along but doesn’t look upset about his lot in life—and Minghao, who raises an eyebrow at the squabble between Soonyoung and Jihoon.

“Oh, look at that,” Seungkwan says, nodding first at the mistletoe now lying abandoned on the floor and second at Vernon. The latter nods back at him and Seungkwan turns to look Jeonghan dead in the eyes before tugging Minghao between them. Seungkwan maintains eye contact as he and Vernon kiss a now flustered Minghao on the cheek.

“That was extremely weird,” Soonyoung says from where Jihoon has him in a headlock.

“Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Jihoon shrugs and releases his hold on Soonyoung. “But definitely bizarre.”

Soonyoung straightens back up and scoffs. “You didn’t even pick it up. I mean, I know I threw it but you didn’t have to leave it on the floor like that. Where’s your sense of tradition?”

“Please,” Chan says, voice strained, “don’t tell us if that’s some weird kind of public foreplay. Just let us enjoy the rest of our night in peace.”

Jihoon makes a distraught noise of agreement. Vernon rolls his eyes and crouches down to pick up the mistletoe and immediately gets two kisses of his own. He laughs and holds it over Seungkwan’s head, keeping it there until everyone else (but Jihoon) darts forward to give his boyfriend a kiss. Seungkwan is pink by the time they’re all done, but he doesn’t try to dislodge the mistletoe from where Vernon has gently placed it in his hair.

“That’s everyone, isn’t it?” Soonyoung asks.

Out of habit, Seungcheol nudges Jeonghan and, when he has his attention, says the first thing that comes to mind. That thing is apparently: “Shall we?”

Jeonghan laughs. “What?”

Seungcheol gestures in the direction of Seungkwan’s hair and his tiny mistletoe crown, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vernon’s jaw drop. Jihoon stops trying to surreptitiously inch his way toward the exit and almost lets go of Chan’s hand.

Jeonghan bites his lip, brow furrowed, and then shrugs. “You know what? Why not?” he says brightly.

It’s Seungcheol’s turn to laugh, but he feels slightly off balance. “What?”

“Come on,” Jeonghan croons, “we’ve got to follow through. Go on.” He exaggeratedly puckers his lips and Seungcheol giggles at the overall effect on Jeonghan’s expression.

“No, no, it’s fine. We’re good. We’re covered.”

“Rude.”

Jihoon makes a high, strangled noise, lets go of Chan, and jabs a finger at Jeonghan and Seungcheol. “No! No, I’m done. You’re all rude, and I hate you all—except you, Channie—and I’m leaving. Goodnight.”

Chan looks amused and pleased, and says, “I’ll head out too, then. Goodnight.”

“Oh.” Jihoon’s retreat abruptly stops, and he looks at Chan’s outstretched hand. “Oh, okay. Yeah, let’s go. I’ll, um, walk you home?”

“Thanks, Jihoonie-hyung.”

“Bye, Jihoonie,” Soonyoung warbles, and laughs when Jihoon flips him off and starts walking toward the exit faster.

“Bye, Channie!” Jeonghan calls. “Goodnight! I love you!”

Vernon makes a face and Minghao tries to hold back his laughter. “You ready?” Vernon says, gently tugging at Seungkwan’s cross tie. To the rest of them, he says, “We’re gonna head out too.”

After the three of them have said their goodbyes, Mingyu turns to Soonyoung and asks, “Do you want to go get ramen?”

Soonyoung lights up. “Sure! There’s a 24-hour place nearby that’s very good.”

“Oh, do you want to come too?” Mingyu belatedly asks Seungcheol and Jeonghan, who exchange a glance.

“No, no, you go ahead.”

“They’re getting old,” Soonyoung stage-whispers to Mingyu, earning a smack on the shoulder from Jeonghan.

“Don’t be so disrespectful,” he chides, but he’s grinning.

And just like that, it’s just the two of them once more.

Seungcheol stretches and then tucks his hands into his pockets. Soonyoung’s joke had a bit of truth in it—sometimes Seungcheol does feel like he’s getting old or at least becoming more tired. He still has a lot of energy, which Jeonghan complains about sometimes, but other times, like now, he just wants to go home. Now the music is too loud and the crush of bodies on the dance floor is overwhelming rather than energizing.

Seungcheol frowns when another couple passes through the doorway closest to them and stops under the mistletoe. He’s tried but he can’t stop thinking about the face Jeonghan made when he—jokingly, it had to be a joke because Seungcheol was joking too—agreed that they should kiss under the mistletoe. He can’t stop thinking about the face Jeonghan made after Seungcheol laughed it off. He also can’t stop thinking about how their closest friends joined everyone else at the winter formal in assuming they were there as each other’s dates…in a romantic capacity.

Jeonghan is quieter than he was before their friends left for the night, but he’s still standing close enough that their shoulders brush when he sways to the music. Seungcheol is used to comfortable silences between them, but this one feels awkward. People watching isn’t enough of a distraction, and the bar is too far away for either of them to grab another drink.

“Hey, do you—”

“Are you—”

They both speak and then stop at the same time. Seungcheol gestures for Jeonghan to go first, but he bites his lip and shakes his head. Seungcheol finds he has to snap his gaze back up from Jeonghan’s mouth to his eyes.

“Do you want to go home?” Seungcheol asks, voice small. He’s suddenly so tired and he can feel a headache coming on.

Jeonghan sighs, but whether it’s with relief or in resignation, Seungcheol isn’t sure. He’s not used to feeling so off balance around Jeonghan, and he hates it. Maybe if they go home now, whatever this is will sort itself out. At the very least, he’ll be able to crawl into bed and continue trying not to think about it.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jeonghan says, linking their arms together. He rests his head against Seungcheol’s shoulder for a moment before gathering the energy to move. Seungcheol brushes the hair out of his face for him and then leads the way home.

**

Seungcheol has shrugged off his suit jacket, hung it up to let it air, and is halfway through unbuttoning his shirt when he hears a quiet, plaintive, “Cheol-ah?” from down the hall.

“Yeah?” he calls back, already heading toward Jeonghan’s room.

“Cheol-ah, I can’t—I need help,” Jeonghan says, tone just this side of whining. “I can’t get the clasp unfastened. Can you help me?”

“‘Course,” Seungcheol says, stepping behind him to lift his collar so he can see the choker necklace. When he tugs at the band so he can get a good grip on the clasp, Jeonghan’s breath hitches—just a little, but enough for Seungcheol to hear the change—and Seungcheol unhooks the clasp quickly. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan lets him slide the choker band free, and Seungcheol steps back and around him to set the necklace on the dresser. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Seungcheol isn’t sure what to do now, so he pats Jeonghan on the shoulder and starts to head back to his room.

“Hey, um,” Jeonghan starts, and his voice is so quiet when he finally asks, “Do you really not want to kiss me? Would it really have been that bad?”

Seungcheol freezes halfway to Jeonghan’s bedroom door, halfway to the hall where he could reasonably pretend he didn’t hear his best friend say anything. But even in the quiet, Seungcheol can hear the strain in Jeonghan’s voice, the weight of not really wanting to ask the questions out loud but feeling like he has to. It’s something he’s always admired about Jeonghan—that he’ll try to confront the things that are bothering him. It’s something Seungcheol has been working on too.

Seungcheol turns back and sees Jeonghan looking down at the floor, and he feels something twist tight in his chest.

“What?” he asks, and winces when he hears his voice crack.

“I said,” Jeonghan gulps and then looks back up at him. His expression is unreadable, which is frustrating because Seungcheol has spent enough time with him that they can sometimes carry conversations in loud rooms without ever speaking. “I said would it really have been that bad? I’m just. I’m just wondering.”

“Why would you think that?” Seungcheol asks.

Jeonghan laughs, and it’s not one of his full-body laughs. It’s hollow and tired and it sounds like it hurts. It certainly doesn’t make Seungcheol feel any better.

Jeonghan rubs the back of his neck and then looks back down at the floor. “Well, you didn’t seem to want to back there, so…”

Seungcheol takes a moment to weigh his options. The moment passes quickly, because maybe it’s always been leading up to this, and because Seungcheol doesn’t want Jeonghan to look that sad because of him ever again. Before he completes even a single coherent thought, he’s striding over to stand in front of his best friend, hands shaking just a little with how much he wants to reach out for Jeonghan.

“It wouldn’t have been bad,” Seungcheol says with conviction and only the slightest waver in his voice. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like it would.”

“Why’d you laugh, then?” Jeonghan asks, and then shakes his head. “Sorry, I know it was a joke. I didn’t think it was going to bother me and it didn’t, not really, at least not until Jihoon looked upset about it.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol says to try to stop the rush of words coming from Jeonghan. “Hey, I thought it was a joke too. I thought it was fine, but then it wasn’t and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Seungcheol takes a deep breath, tips his head back, and lets the air out in hard exhale so he has time to gather his thoughts. Time to strengthen his resolve.

He tries again. “I honestly never thought about it before. We’ve just always been here, you know? We’ve always been like this.” He gestures between them before running an anxious hand through his hair. “But I’m really sorry I made you think I wouldn’t want to kiss you.”

“What?” Jeonghan asks.

“I’m really sorry I made you think I wouldn’t want to kiss you,” Seungcheol repeats slowly. He forces himself not to look away as Jeonghan searches his face. He’s not sure what Jeonghan is looking for, but he hopes he finds it. Seungcheol can feel his heart hammering in his chest.

“Cheol-ah, what are you saying?”

“I think,” Seungcheol says, lining up at the edge of his metaphorical cliff and then taking the plunge, “I’m saying I would like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

As the words leave his lips, he knows they’re true. He’s plummeting through open air, rapidly leaving behind that cliff’s edge, but he knows something will be there to slow his fall.

In all their years together, first as friends and then as roommates, they’ve always been there for each other. Sure, they’ve had a blind spot—or at least Seungcheol has—about this, about how close they are. Whatever this feeling is has probably been there for a while, but Seungcheol never took the time to examine it. He’s starting to do that now, inspecting it closely while waiting for Jeonghan to say something. The feeling isn’t new, he thinks, and it’s not inherently more or less important than their friendship. But if Jeonghan will let him, Seungcheol will prove that he does want to kiss him, that he doesn’t mind, with or without mistletoe. He’s afraid of messing this up, but he’s also afraid of not being honest, especially when Jeonghan was honest with him. Seungcheol doesn’t want either of them to regret this.

“There’s no mistletoe,” Jeonghan says, a shadow of a smile on his face.

“Like we need mistletoe,” Seungcheol laughs softly.

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks.

Seungcheol nods. “I think so, yeah. Are you? Are we going to be okay?”

Jeonghan gives him a small smile. “It’s just us.”

He’s got a point, so Seungcheol reaches out and carefully cups Jeonghan’s face in his hands. He leans in slow, giving Jeonghan plenty of time to turn away, and is relieved and quietly pleased when he doesn’t. Their lips meet, soft and warm, and while Seungcheol doesn’t feel a seismic shift beneath his feet or a jolt of electricity, it feels right. Jeonghan’s hands come up, one to rest against the fabric at his waist and one to settle firmly on his shoulder. Seungcheol slides one of his hands forward to tangle in Jeonghan’s hair. It still feels right when Jeonghan breaks the last, gentle, closed mouth kiss to rock back and forward again on his heels. Seungcheol sighs when Jeonghan presses their foreheads together, eyes still closed.

“Still okay?” Seungcheol asks quietly. He tucks some of Jeonghan’s hair behind his ear and then lets his hand settle against the base of Jeonghan’s neck.

“Yeah, I think so.” Jeonghan smiles and opens his eyes. The smile turns shy as he opens his mouth again. “Would you, um, mind sleeping in here tonight?”

Seungcheol kisses Jeonghan’s forehead before answering, and grins when Jeonghan wrinkles his nose. “Sure,” Seungcheol says.

“It’s just that my bed is softer,” Jeonghan continues, and Seungcheol laughs.

“I know.”

“Also, you’re still going to need to shower. Go do that. I have to get my—”

“—your nighttime skincare routine ready, yeah, I know. I’ll go. I’ll save some warm water for you,” Seungcheol says. “One more for the road?”

“Your room is literally in the same apartment as mine. So is the bathroom. There is no road. You’re not going on a cross-country trek, Seungcheol-ah,” Jeonghan scoffs, but he gives Seungcheol a quick peck on the lips all the same. “Go, you smell like the cloud of smoke we walked through on our way home.”

“Fine, fine. I’m going.”

“Bye,” Jeonghan says, already turning back to the dresser to finish unbuttoning his shirt. As Seungcheol crosses the threshold, he hears, “but please come back,” and he goes to get ready for bed with a wide, dumb smile on his face.

Later, Jeonghan looks sleepy and soft when he pushes past Seungcheol to take his turn in the bathroom. He moves with purpose, and gently shoves Seungcheol out the door the moment it’s clear he’s already brushed his teeth and no longer needs to be in there. Seungcheol lets it happen, smile still as wide as it was when Jeonghan asked him to come back.

Later still, and like he often has in the past, Seungcheol wanders into Jeonghan’s room and crawls under the covers when Jeonghan lifts them up. They lie there in the dark, facing each other and breathing quietly.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Seungcheol whispers.

“We’re going to try,” Jeonghan whispers back.

There’s a lengthy and comfortable silence, and then Seungcheol speaks again. “Hey, Hannie, which spoon do you want to be?”

“Oh my god, Cheol-ah,” Jeonghan groans. “What? I was almost asleep.”

Seungcheol covers his mouth to muffle his laughter, but it still bubbles out from between his fingers. “No you weren’t.”

“But I _wanted_ to be,” Jeonghan whines.

“Well, since you’re not, tell me which spoon you want to be.” Seungcheol waits a few moments before crooning softly, “Come on, Jeonghannie.”

“Ugh, fine. Big spoon. I don’t want to move. Just want sleep,” Jeonghan says grumpily, but now that Seungcheol’s eyes have adjusted to the dark, he can see that Jeonghan is holding his arm up to let him scoot under it.

Seungcheol rolls over and scoots back slowly until he feels Jeonghan drop his arm around his waist. He wiggles a little more so his back is flush against Jeonghan’s chest and then laces their fingers together because he can.

“Sleep now?” Jeonghan mumbles.

“Yeah, goodnight,” Seungcheol whispers.

“Please don’t ask me any more questions until I’ve slept,” Jeonghan says into Seungcheol’s hair.

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Night,” Jeonghan echoes. “Shh.”

Seungcheol snorts and raises their joined hands so he can press a quick kiss to Jeonghan’s knuckles. “You’re the one who keeps talking now.”

“Shut up, I could kick your ass,” Jeonghan says. “Hey, stop laughing at me. I can tell you’re laughing. Stop that.”

Seungcheol tries to compose himself and, when he’s finally stopped shaking with silent laughter, he kisses Jeonghan’s knuckles again. “Sure you could,” he whispers, so fond.

When they finally drift off, Seungcheol sleeps as well as he always does when they’ve fallen asleep together. It’s nice, it’s just them, and Seungcheol thinks it will be okay. They’ll make it work—they always have.


End file.
